


Kukkad Kamaal Da

by stepquietly



Category: Bollywood Movies, Student of the Year (2012)
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, M/M, Oral Sex, hinglish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 20:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2401841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepquietly/pseuds/stepquietly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He pulls off his shirt and puts it aside on a chair for the morning. “Oi, hero,” he says, “tu bhi kapade utar. Nahin toh you won’t be comfortable.”</p><p>The bed rustles behind him as Rohan starts undressing. “Hero bulata hai aur kapade utarta hai. Wah, kya line hai!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kukkad Kamaal Da

**Author's Note:**

> For Battameez, who has been harping on about this movie since sometime last year. 
> 
> This is a porny ficlet based in the movie's timeline just after the whole Sanu Vele Kehnde song that happens in the club and before Abhi wakes up to join the family for breakfast. The title is inevitable because any blowjob fic was always going to be called this for obvious and hilarious reasons.
> 
> Quick and dirty beta by [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/zorana/profile)[](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/zorana/)**zorana** , for which you should all be grateful because my Hindi is functional at best.

By the time Abhi drives the both of them back to Rohan’s house it’s late enough that he doesn’t even think twice about accepting Rohan’s drunken invitation to spend the night.

“Kya yaar,” Rohan slurs into his shoulder, “yahein reh ja. What’s mine is yours and all that.”

Abhi hitches him up higher against his shoulder and contemplates the stairs; Rohan’s room is on the second floor which is really going to be a problem seeing as Abhi’s been all but carrying him so far. “Mein tujhe utha ke ghar laya hoon. Bistar to milna hi chahiye,” he agrees, and ignores Rohan’s indignant noise to prop him against the banister. Then, taking a deep breath, he pushes his shoulder into Rohan’s stomach, yanks him over his shoulder in a fireman carry and hurries up the stairs, muscles protesting the movement.

“Khana thoda kum kar,” he grumbles, and Rohan mutters, “saala, tu kam kar,” against his back.

He shoves his way into Rohan’s room and bends over to dump him on the bed, grabs his back as he straightens up so he can knead the ache at its base. As he watches, Rohan eels up the bed, eyes closed, and kicks his shoes off before he turns over, giving every indication that he’s going straight to sleep.

Abhi goes to the door to look around, but the house is silent and he isn’t really sure where any of the guest rooms are. He comes back in and shakes Rohan awake. “Hey, Ro. Mein kahaan so jaon?”

Rohan opens one bloodshot eye to stare at him, hazily, before shuffling back on the bed to make room. “Dude, I can’t get up now. Bas, tu yahan hi so ja. It’s fine.” He pats the mattress next to him. “Sharing ki aadat hogi, na, hostel mein?”

“Mera single bed hain.” Abhi points out, but sits down and toes off his shoes. He pulls off his shirt and puts it aside on a chair for the morning. “Oi, hero,” he says, “tu bhi kapade utar. Nahin toh you won’t be comfortable.”

The bed rustles behind him as Rohan starts undressing. “Hero bulata hai aur kapade utarta hai. Wah, kya line hai!”

Abhi grins and stands up, pulls off his jeans and puts them on the chair as well. “Kya? Aisi line tujh par chalegi kya? Wow, Ro, tu to bada easy nikla.” He turns to see Rohan stretched out on the bed, also stripped down to his undershirt and underwear.

Rohan laughs and feigns swooning like a heroine. Affecting a high-pitched tone, he says, “Kya boloon? Teri muscles dekh ke meri saari confusion duur ho gayi!” He laughs, still drunk. “Man, dad ko pata chala ki hum aise batein kar rahe hain toh he’d totally flip out.”

Abhi lies back on the bed and keeps his eyes on Rohan’s. “Tune iske bare mein socha hai?”

Rohan yawns and stretches. “Why not? Sab log sochte hai.” He turns on his side so their faces are closer together. “Tune bhi socha hoga.”

Abhi shrugs and punches his pillow to push it into place, lies on his back. “Not really. Sirf tum amir logon ke pas itna time hota hai, ki aisi batein socho. Mein itna faltu nahin hoon.”

Rohan scoots closer. “Bullshit,” he says. “Sab log iske bare mein sochte hain.” He holds up a hand to forestall Abhi’s response. “Lekin, say you’re right, abhi soch lo. Mein yahan hoon.” He waves a hand down his body as if to indicate it. “Perfect specimen.”

Abhi rolls his eyes. “Tu specimen nahin, dhakkan hain. Kitni daru peeke aaya?”

Rohan shoves himself upright and leans into Abhi’s space. “Mein serious hoon. Tujhe experiment karni hai, mein tere liye yahan hoon, one hundred percent.” He puts a hand on Abhi’s leg and slides it up towards his crotch. “Bolo toh, mein blowjob dene ke liye bhi tyaar hoon.” Rohan grins at him. “Samjho jaise ‘oral exam’!”

Abhi chokes at the image and puts a hand onto Rohan’s face to shove him away. Rohan rolls with it, laughing, and Abhi’s confused by the fact that he’s laughing as well.

“Idiot. Itne shitty joke se seduce karne ki koshish kar rahe ho?”

Rohan rolls back over to lean into his space, runs a hand over Abhi’s abs and down to where he’s starting to get hard. “Mein kahan seduce kar raha hoon? Tu hi toh yahan aaya, kapade nikaal diye, bistar mein let gaya. Adha kaam toh tune hi kiya. Aur phir,” he slips a hand under the waistband of Abhi’s undies and grasps his firming cock and rubs a thumb over the head, grinning when Abhi hisses in response, “yeh bhi hai.”

Abhi closes his eyes and fists his hands in the sheets. Rohan’s going to be insufferable after this but – “Tune blowjob ke bare mein kuch bola tha.”

“Yes!” Rohan pumps his fist. “I knew you wanted it, man.” He does a small victory dance, making dish-tup sounds.

Abhi doesn’t understand his dick at all because it’s still hard.

“Oi, hero,” he says finally, when it becomes apparent that Rohan’s victory celebration is likely to go on for a while, Rohan having now moved to air-guitar, “dance baad mein kar, pehle apna skill toh dikha.”

Rohan stops dancing to point a finger at him – “Yes, boss.” – before he leans over and kisses him.

It’s – It’s surprisingly good. Different, Abhi thinks. Rohan’s got more stubble than he does and its strange to feel that against his face, to have his head tilted back so Rohan can kiss his way down his neck, the rough ends catching against Abhi’s skin, and then back to his mouth; long, wet kisses that make it clear that Rohan’s done this a lot, knows how to work his teeth, his tongue.

His hands are all over Abhi’s sides, pushing his undershirt up so he can get a hand on Abhi’s nipples, thumbing them experimentally. Then, when Abhi groans in response, scraping a nail over one, the other hand yanking down the waistband of his undies to get a hand around his cock, and Abhi’s actually starting to leak, can feel it when Rohan teases the slit of his cock and spreads it over the head, slick and warm.

“Ro,” he murmurs, dragging his hands up Rohan’s back, and then Rohan pulls away from his hands to move down the bed. He pushes at Abhi’s legs until Abhi parts them, and then Rohan lays down between them, his legs dangling off the bed and his mouth right by Abhi’s balls.

Abhi swallows and meets Rohan’s eyes as he eases the waistband of his undies down, and Rohan looks serious as well, nods at him before he lowers his face to nuzzle at Abhi’s balls, at the base of his cock. He leaves small kisses there, and Abhi can’t stop himself from shoving a hand into Rohan’s hair and trying to pull him onto his cock.

Rohan yelps, “Dude, baal sambhal!” His hands fly automatically to try and put his hair back into order.

“Sorry, sorry,” Abhi groans and tries to hump his cock up. Anything to get Rohan’s mouth on him. “Lekin thoda jaldi kar.”

“Baba, doing this properly takes time,” Rohan tells him, mouth twisting in amusement like he knows exactly what he’s doing to Abhi. “Style ki baat kar rahe the, na? Watch, mein tumhe dikhata hoon.” He curls his hand around the base of Abhi’s dick and licks a wet stripe up it, sucks on the head, and then, holding Abhi’s stunned eyes, uncurls his hand and eases himself all the way down.

Abhi only has a second to enjoy the feeling of this, of hitting the back of Rohan’s throat, because Rohan abruptly makes a choking sound and pulls off him, stays bent over making retching sounds.

“Ro?” he ventures, concerned, and Rohan throws up a desperate hand. “Oh god, mein ulti karne waala hoon.”

Abhi reflexively covers his dick because that does not sound appealing at all, but Rohan just sort of hurps twice, and then breathes deeply. Then he leans back down and tries to peel Abhi’s fingers off his cock like nothing went terribly wrong at all.

"Kuch fancy mat try karo," Abhi tells him desperately, trying to keep his fingers over the majority of his cock. The last thing he wants is vomit on his junk.

Rohan just ignores him and licks between his fingers. Maybe realising that Abhi has no intention of letting him near his cock any time in the future, he moves further down the bed, one hand slipping into his undies to play with his own dick.

Abhi can’t stop watching the bulge of it, the way Rohan’s hand is stretching out the fabric, the elastic at the top slipping lower so he can see the shape of the head as it pushes out of Rohan’s fist. The room’s starting to smell and sound like sex, wet slapping sounds. Abhi’s panting, his own hand moving over his cock in sync with Rohan’s.

“Wait,” Rohan tells him, and Abhi jerks his eyes back from Rohan’s dick to his face. Rohan leers at him and wiggles his eyebrows before bending forward, his lips brushing Abhi’s knee. “Yeh dekh, maine yeh Shanaiya se seekha,” he whispers, and then places a line of small biting kisses up Abhi’s thighs.

“Apni girlfriend ki baat abhi mat kar,” Abhi tells him breathlessly, annoyed, trying to focus on anything except the way the small bursts of pain are arrowing straight to his balls. Rohan ignores him to butt his lips against Abhi’s fingers, leaves a light bite on his index finger, and Abhi loosens his grip on his dick, lets Rohan swallow him down again.

He can feel Rohan still humping his dick down into the bed, into his fist. Rohan keeps moaning around him, mouth wet and sloppy, and Abhi fucking loves it.

“Shit,” he groans, toes curling. “Ro –” he warns, feeling everything building up in him, and Rohan pulls away but keeps jacking him, mouth close enough that when Abhi finally comes, he comes messily over Rohan’s face and fist, Rohan’s eyes holding his disbelieving ones.

He’s still trying to catch his breath when Rohan pushes himself up right to kneel in the V of Abhi’s legs and jerk himself off, tugging his undies down so that when he comes, it falls on Abhi’s stomach, the hot patter of it raining down on him.

Rohan groans and does a controlled collapse onto his side, still somehow managing to land mostly on Abhi and drive the breath from his body.

“Fucker,” Abhi grumbles, and shoves at him so that eventually they’re both lying flush against each other, sides touching. Abhi takes a couple of deep breaths, feels Rohan’s eyes on him.

Eventually, when it becomes too hard to ignore, he looks over, and Rohan smiles at him and jabs an elbow into his side. “Toh? Tell the truth. I'm the best, na?”

Abhi huffs a breath, caught between amusement and annoyance. “Mujhe kya pata. Sara style tune Shanaiya se seekha hai. Maybe she's the best,” he offers, deliberately needling.

Rohan scowls and shoves him, “Eh! Meri girlfriend ke baare mein baat aise mat kar.”

Abhi sighs. “Ro, abhi hi you put my dick in your mouth. Girlfriend ki baat thoda kam kar.”

Rohan flops back on the bed to sulk. “Mein hi best hoon,” he insists. “Shanaiya face pe aane nahin deti.” Abhi looks at him, confused, so he elaborates. “Make up ke karan.”

“Ah.” Abhi nods. Makes sense.

They both stare at the ceiling.

Finally, Abhi relents. “Acha tha,” he offers awkwardly.

Rohan laughs. “Man gaya? Oral exam pass?”

Abhi swats at him, and Rohan laughs, the two of them wrestling until they’re curled together, finally asleep.


End file.
